Moving Forwards
by her name was Irrelevant
Summary: Two summers after the Zeus-Atom fight, Max and Charlie plan to bring Atom back to the boxing scene for the first time. Everything's changed, especially life and boxing-and nothing goes as expected. But when there's a will, you'll find success...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I usually don't write fanfiction, but I got really inspired after watching Real Steel (for the second, third, fourth time...) to write this. Starts kinda slow at first, but it'll pick up. I promise :P  
>Anyways, like I said, I'm not much of a writer (unless it's about King Lear and for school-let's not go there) so anything you have to offer would be wonderfully appreciated.<p>

And anyways, GO REAL STEEL FANDOM! Yee-uh!

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><p>He saw Tallet's Gym on the other side of the windshield, but for once, they didn't stop there. Although the gym was newly renovated-new windows, a new light-up sign, posters of the 'People's Champion' hanging in the window-Bailey and her new husband, Charlie, had moved twenty minutes away, to a cozy and safe Texas suburb with a small-town feel. To a little two-bedroom house with a full kitchen and a lawn; to a town with a park and swings for their eight-month-old to play on, someday, when she was old enough.<p>

From the passenger seat, Max twitched as he watched Tallet's Gym disappear from the rear-view mirror. It wasn't that he wasn't excited to spend the summer with his dad, Bailey, and their new kid-Corrine, who he'd only seen in photographs-in the new house that he'd helped them move into the summer before. But somehow, it didn't feel right. He'd called Charlie from the airport that night, while Aunt Debra and Marvin waited in line for a rental car, but Charlie hadn't yet told them what he had planned for their summer. Max purposefully hadn't asked all year: he'd wanted it to be a surprise. Since the crazy, memorable summer two years ago-when he was eleven, when he slept in the shelf of Charlie's truck and found Atom after a near-death experience in a junkyard-Charlie come into good money through sponsorships. He'd bought new robots, each one more powerful and awe-inspiring than the last, with Bailey by his side to help him haggle the prices. Since the famed Zeus-Atom fight, though, he hadn't put Atom in a match-an unspoken agreement between himself and Max. Atom was Max's, and Max was in New York attending school. The previous summer, Charlie talked about staging a comeback tour, him and Max and Atom and the truck just as they had the summer before that. The plans had ended with the discovery that Bailey was pregnant, and the resulting scramble to find another place to live, somewhere more suitable to raise a child. Max spent much of that summer at the gym, examining his father's new robots while Charlie and Bailey visited house after house after house. Shortly after he helped them move in, it was time for him to go back to school, feeling slightly disappointed with the way he'd spent his two-and-a-half months of break.

"Okay, Max. Max? Buddy? We're here." The rental car lurched to a stop-Marvin wasn't used to driving such a touchy, cheap car-in front of a small suburban home with a small patch of green lawn, and a little cement path leading to the front door. A man stood on the little porch, smiling and carrying something in his arms.

"Charlie!" Without thinking to thank Marvin for the ride, or say anything to Aunt Debra in the backseat, Max sprung out of the car and rushed towards his father. Despite Aunt Debra's insistence that it was rude, Max still called his dad Charlie, and it didn't seem to bother anyone else.

"Hey, kid! Hey, whoa, whoa." Charlie took a few steps back as Max skidded to a halt in front of him, arms stretched out to tackle-hug him. "I've got the baby with me-hey, hey, look." Awkwardly, Charlie shifted the cotton-swathed thing in his arms, showing Max a small, sleeping baby with wispy brown hair that lay in short curls around its' face. "This is Corrine."

Max peered down at his half-sister, and couldn't help but smile. He was still at the age in which small children were irrelevant and unimportant to him, but he'd always wanted a sibling. After a few moments, he looked up at his father, unsure of what to say. Charlie smiled reassuringly, and Max reached out hesitantly to touch the baby's forehead. Little Corrine's cheek twitched, but her eyes stayed closed.

"So we're going to be renting a condo in Los Angeles this summer-here's our contact information. We won't be too far away." Aunt Debra's voice sounded suddenly behind Max, and he turned to see his Aunt approaching from behind, retrieving a slip of paper from her purse. Seeing that his father's hands were occupied, Max took the sheet of paper and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. "Congradulations. I-we read the letter about your daughter." Another brief pause, and Debra rifled through her purse, pulling out a gift card to Kids' Mart. "For you and Bailey," she explained, adjusting her hair uncomfortably. "I thought you might need it." After a nod from Charlie, Max took the gift card and slipped it into his pocket with the contact information.

Charlie nodded, squinting against the sun. Although he'd salvaged his relationship with Max, things were still tense between him and Debra. It made sense, after all-he'd left Debra's little sister with a young child, cut off all connections, never sent anything to her for her birthday-or Max's, for that matter. Debra resented him, less now than before, but nonetheless resented him, and Charlie seemed resigned to accept that as the way things were. "That's great. Bailey-yeah, I'll let her know." Corrine whimpered softly, and he stopped talking for a moment, bouncing her up and down. "She's at the store right now-getting ready, you know. For-for Max being here." Debra nodded, then Max nodded, then Charlie, and there was an awkward moment of silence.

"Well, okay, Max. We're going to be in Los Angeles. Call me, okay? Let us know how things are going." Debra placed her hand on Max's shoulder, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Bye, Aunt Debra."

She pulled him in for a quick hug before turning and disappearing into the car. The engine rumbled to life, and she and Marvin were gone.

"So-so, uh." Charlie swung open the door, motioning for Max to come indoors. "I'll put Corrine back in her crib, and we can talk, okay? Make yourself at home."

Max slipped inside, and flopped into the small floral couch in the living room, watching Charlie disappear into the hallway and then reappear, shaking out his arms and sitting next to Max. This was how it should be, Max felt, him and his father this summer and nothing else, forget that Bailey was only at the grocery store and the new baby was asleep only a hallway away. He scooted closer to his father and leaned gently against his arm.

"I got us a gig," Charlie said, reaching around his son and placing his hand on Max's shoulder. With Debra gone, and the awkward meeting out of the way, Charlie seemed more relaxed. "San Francisco. We'll be in California-you never been, right? Go to the beach, maybe. It's a long drive. You're up for it, right?"

"Yeah-yeah, of course! What robot are we fighting?" Barely daring to ask, Max added, "And we're going to bring Atom, right?" He closed his eyes, nervous to hear his father's reply. In the almost-two years since Atom's last fight, boxing robots had gotten even larger, more powerful. Still, he felt that Atom was up to the task.

Charlie grinned. "I think so, yeah. We'll go down to the gym tomorrow-we'll tune him up. We'll leave on Friday, okay? How do you feel about that?"

"In the truck?"

"It's parked out by Tallet's-you saw it, right? How else would we travel?" Charlie looked down at Max, who smiled broadly, too cheered up to express in words. Charlie sighed, sinking deeper into the couch cushion, and they sat in silence for a moment.

"So why don't we put your stuff in your room? You're going to stay in Corrine's room, okay? Just for a couple days, we leave for San Francisco in three days. We've got an air mattress."

Max followed his father into the nursery, furnished with a small crib, a mostly-empty bookshelf, and an inflatable air mattress in the center of the room. Charlie dropped his son's duffel bag in the corner, and whispered, so as to not wake the baby, "How about you take a nap?"

He was thirteen, sure, but he'd been awake since four in the morning to catch the flight to Dallas, and he was exhausted. Nodding blearily, Max flopped onto the air mattress and pulled the lightweight comforter around him. Light streamed in from the window above him, and he closed his eyes.

_The perfect summer_, he thought contentedly, rolling over and already close to sleep. With his father and with Atom and even the truck again. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that he couldn't wait for it all to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I wrote like six beginnings to this chapter but this one finally felt right. There's not a lot of bot boxing action yet, but it's coming. I promise! xD_

_And anyways, I don't know, I'm trying my hardest! Go easy on me, please? I'm like the Ambush of the fanfic world! I'm not so hot!_

_But nonetheless I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. Enjoy!_

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><p>He didn't sleep well, and when he finally woke up, his first thoughts were about Atom. Groggily, Max crawled off the air mattress, which had halfway-deflated during the night, and rolled against Corrine's crib, causing him to groan softly. His little half-sibling had kept him up with several bouts of late-night wailing, which were followed by Bailey staggering into the room, bouncing her daughter softly and singing softly and slightly out-of-tune under her breath while Max lay still, pretending to be asleep. Halfway through the night, when Corrine woke up for a second time, Max vaguely remembered giving up on sleeping, and decided to listen to music instead-his headphones had slid off his neck and onto the floor, and he scooped them up, tossing them haphazardly on top of his duffel bag.<p>

"Good morning, Max. Did you sleep all right?" Bailey greeted him as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Across the table, Charlie sat with a mug of coffee, reading something on his phone. At the sound of Max's chair scraping against the linoleum floor, he looked up briefly, smiled, and continued to read.

Max shrugged, unsure of how to answer. His grogginess was already subsiding to the bright carbonation that bubbled in the pit of his stomach-he was finally going to see Atom again. "I slept alright. I guess."

"Sorry about Corrine," Bailey said. She was mixing something in a bowl by the stove, and poured the mixture into a pan, which began to sizzle violently. "You like scrambled eggs, right?"

"They're alright."

"Well, eat a lot of them," Charlie said suddenly, setting down his phone and taking a long swig of coffee. "We'd better head over to Tallet's first thing after breakfast. I've got a thing to go to at four-thirty-a photoshoot sort of thing, promotion for the big tour circuit through the east coast in the Fall, with Thunder Punch"-

Max snorted. "Thunder Punch? Really?" He laughed, looking across the table at his father. "Charlie, I really think that you should start calling me for advice on your new bots..."

"I didn't name the robot, kid. It's part of a sponsorship deal." Charlie's tone was a little bit testy.

"Can I come?"

"Well-it's boring, I don't know if you're going to like it. This sponsor crap, it pays the bills, but it's not that fun, I'll tell you that much." He must have seen the disappointment on his son's face, because he added, "You're not really missing out on anything. Just hang out here."

Bailey smiled at Max, shaking the frying pan with one hand. "It'll be more fun here, really," she said. "I think there's a boxing match tonight down in Atlanta. It'll be on TV. You'll watch that with me, right?"

"Yeah!" Max really liked Bailey-when he first met Charlie, back at Tallet's right before Charlie bought Noisy Boy, he liked her a lot more than he liked his father. To make things better, she liked robot boxing just as much as he did, and seemed to be making a concerted effort to make him feel at home. She wasn't inclined to cook, he knew-if the freezer and refrigerator stuffed with convenience food was any indication-and the scrambled eggs were a welcoming gesture, one much appreciated.

There was a moment of silence, filled only with the sizzling in the frying pan-and, suddenly, a loud and high-pitched sobbing that was rapidly becoming all-too-familiar. Max looked expectantly at Charlie, who looked at Bailey, who sighed, adjusting her hair in its' loose, curly ponytail. "Okay, okay. I'll get Corrine." She turned and disappeared into the hallway, and Max could hear her in the nursery as she tried to calm her daughter.

It didn't take long for his robot to resurface in Max's mind. "You've been taking care of Atom, right?" he asked, turning to Charlie, who was swallowing a long sip of coffee.

Charlie set the mug down, and gave Max a reassuring smile. "You know who you're talking to, right?" He asked, and Max's heart soared. "He's in pretty good order, kiddo. You'll have to thank Bailey, too-she's been the one polishing him up, keeping him looking nice. Says it's good for business." His face scrunched up for a moment, and he took another swig of coffee, then swirled the mug in his hand.

Since the re-flourishing on Charlie's career, Tallet's Gym had begun to refocus itself as a repair shop for boxing robots. Bailey also helped design robots for clients, and with her genius with mechanics, Tallet's Gym was thriving for the first time, really, since the end of human boxing. Charlie had told Max over the phone about a secret robot that Bailey was designing in her private workshop in the back, something that would change the sport, but Max halfway suspected that his father was trying to entice him to stay with them over the summer, instead of in Los Angeles with his aunt and uncle. As if he needed persuading.

"You know, he really has been good for business. You saw the posters in the windows, right? The 'People's Champion'...hey, um, do you smell something burning?"

As if on queue, Max's eyes began to sting, and he turned his head to look at a thick, dark stream of smoke billowing from the stovetop. "The eggs!" Bailey called, scrambling into the kitchen with Corrine still crying loudly in her arms. Charlie walked up behind her, picking up the pan from the stovetop.

"Well, I don't know if we can eat this, exactly." Charlie frowned, turning off the stove and setting the pan back on top. Curious, Max scuttled across the kitchen and peered into the pan. The eggs were cracked, plasticky-looking and yellow in the center, and burned blackish around the edges. His father chuckled and wrapped his arm around his wife. "I don't know, cooking was never really your thing..."

Bailey sighed, glancing at the clock on the countertop. "It's almost ten-thirty, Charlie. You boys had better get going." Corrine hiccuped, then fell silent, and she hugged her tightly against her chest. "There's probably some granola bars in the cabinet..."

Charlie kissed her on the side of the head, then turned to Max. "I'll take you out to breakfast," he said, already brushing past him and towards the front door. "There's this waffle place-you like waffles, right? But we better hurry." All too happy to be out the door, Max hurried after his father.

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><p>The breakfast rush was long gone by the time Charlie and Max got their food-a ham omelet for Charlie, and strawberry pancakes (extra whipped cream, please) for Max. There was a long silence as the two dug into their food-it was almost lunch-time by now, and they were both starving-which was finally broken by Charlie.<p>

"So-how's school?"

"I hate it," Max said, outright. And he did-he hated the stupid preppy private school, with its uniforms and posh attitude. It just wasn't _him_, and he had tried to express this to Aunt Debra and, in desperation, to Marvin, both of whom insisted that he would thank them later, that he was getting a quality education.

"Hey-don't say stuff like that. School's important." Despite himself, Charlie smiled; he hadn't been one for school either. Knowing this, Max smiled too, around his mouthful of strawberries and whipped cream.

"No, I'm serious. They don't talk about robot boxing. They talk about"-Max wrinkled his nose in distaste-"well, whatever. This one boy in my class, he didn't even know about Atom's fight with Zeus!" He swallowed, then waved his arms in a universal motion of disbelief. "Who didn't hear about _that_?"

Now Charlie laughed, scraping his fork against his plate. "A little bit full of ourselves, huh?" He asked. "It was that important, huh?"

"Important?" Max said incredulously. "It was the _biggest robot boxing fight in the world_! It changed the sport of bot boxing! Nobody's ever going to see another fight like that, and he didn't even _know_, he just"-

"All right, all right." Charlie pulled his wallet out of his pocket, slipping a few bills onto the table. "Save that tough talk for after our fight in San Francisco. You're ready to go see Atom, right? You excited?"

"You're kidding, right?" Max slid out of the booth, raising his hands around his face like a boxer. "I've been waiting _all year!_"

"Okay then, kid." Charlie slapped Max gently on the back, which nonetheless caused him to stagger forwards a step. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** It's obviously not necessary to leave an authors' note, but I always feel like I should ^^ Writing this fic has been a blast so far...hope you've liked reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. At any rate, tell me what you think! Enjoy :]

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><p>"Okay, we're here." Charlie pushed open the heavy glass door to Tallet's, and Max practically ran through the entrance, as if he were a magnet being pulled in by his dormant best friend inside.<p>

It was amazing, Max wondered as his father deactivated the intruder alarm, how different Tallet's Gym looked after the renovations. The old boxing ring was left in the middle of the gym-a tribute to Bailey's father-but the ceilings had been raised, giving the gym-turned-workshop a grander, awe-inspiring feel. New work-tables had also been added where the remains of Charlie's old robots were once kept, and most of them had robots lying across them, in various states of repair. Glancing up the stairs, Max noticed that the space where Bailey's tiny one-bedroom flat had once been now had a computer and a filing cabinet-her office, he assumed. With bated breath, Max continued to scan the room until he found what he was looking for.

Atom had been left in a defensive pose, with his hands clenched into fists and knees slightly bent; behind him, a giant poster declared him the "Peoples' Champion". Max nearly tripped over his own legs as he darted across the gym, staring up at his robot. Charlie was right-someone had taken good care of him. His armor had been replaced since last summer; Atom was now almost more platinum than pewter-grey, but the facemask had been left untouched, and although Atom's eyes were unlit in his dormant state, Max couldn't help but feel comforted by looking at the welded lines in his mask that gave Atom an odd, sentient-looking smile.

"I'll power him up," Max called out to his father across the room, doing so without waiting for his father's approval. As he switched him on, the robot's body gave a slight jerk, and a faint whirring sound coming from inside of Atom's head area let Max know that he had been successfully powered-up.

Again facing the metal giant, Max strained his neck to look into the robot's cyan-colored eyes, and felt a chill run down his spine. He knew how strange it was to say that he was best friends with a robot, but he knew somewhere inside that Atom was _more_ than just a robot-he represented to Max the complicated emotions he had been forced to confront two years ago; he represented the odd but powerful relationship between Max and Charlie, and the amazing exhilaration and sense of power that Max had felt that whole summer while he and his father traveled from town to town for boxing gigs. And besides, since the first time that Bailey booted up the rusty, mud-caked version of Atom, Max had always felt that there was something in the robot's eyes, something damn near sentience. He never dared tell anyone about this idea of his-he didn't even think Charlie would understand-but he was pleased to see that, despite his new upgrades, Atom's eyes remained the same, cold and blank but oddly understanding at the same time.

"You like it? Bailey said we should put some new armor on him, if we're going to take him on a tour this summer," Charlie said. He approached Max with a set of headphones hung around his neck, and a controller in his hand-Atom's voice-controller, as Max instantly recognized it-and stopped next to Max, where he also looked up at Atom. "She also got some new parts for him-custom parts, they don't sell stuff for this guy anymore. Hey, look." He took a few steps backwards, signaling for Max to do the same.

"Left hook! Uppercut!" Charlie barked into the headset. Max watched in awe as the robot swung its powerful arms in the combination that Charlie had ordered. Covering the microphone with his hand, Charlie turned to Max. "See that? Practically no noise, right? And faster, too."

"Right," Max said finally, still mesmerized by his robot. "Quiet…so quiet. What did you do?"

Charlie powered down the headset, and Atom's body relaxed, the lights in his eyes pulsating peacefully. "Bailey did it-thank her when we get back, okay? She said there was no way that we'd be able to last fifteen seconds against the new crop of boxing robots with Atom's old machinery. Replaced almost everything. He might still be smaller than all the other guys, but you're looking at a top-quality robot now."

A shadow of worry crossed Max's mind. "He still has his shadow function, right?" he asked. To Max, Atom's shadow function was his most important feature-he still remembered the long nights he spent teaching the robot its boxing moves, and the rush of adrenaline he got from the cheering crowd as the pair danced together.

Charlie's smile was reassuring. "Of course he does. You didn't think we'd get rid of that, did you?" He put his hand on Max's shoulder, shaking him teasingly. "Besides, you've gotta bring the moves, right?"

Max giggled. "Right." He didn't fit in well at school, not with children who were raised on yachts, in houses with more rooms than a small motel, and certainly not with children who weren't raised on robot boxing-but he was here now, and he had his best friend back, and nothing could have felt better.


	4. Chapter 4

"You'll wake me up at seven o'clock tomorrow, right, Charlie? You _promise_?"

"Max...Max, it's eleven-thirty! Go to sleep!" Charlie smiled, hauling Max's duffel bag to the front door. Max followed him closely, still fully alert despite the late hour. "There's about twenty-six hours between us and San Francisco, kiddo." Charlie turned to look into Max's eyes, and Max lifted his chin to meet his gaze, pursing his lips to contain his smile. "Seriously, get some rest."

"But seven, right?" Max insisted. The past couple of days had been boring, mostly spent watching TV and baby-sitting Corrine while Charlie went to meetings with his sponsors and Bailey worked on repairs at the gym. That afternoon, however, Bailey had brought him to Tallet's while she caught up on an important repair job, and he spent every second polishing Atom's armor until the little sparring robot practically radiated his own light. Now the truck was parked awkwardly in front of the house, blocking half of the street, and Atom was sitting in the trailer inside. Everything was in order, and _finally_they were leaving tomorrow, and the almost-eight hours between then and their departure felt agonizing.

Charlie yawned. "But it's _late_. Why don't we try, say, eight-thirty"-Max play-punched him, only half-joking, in the arm, and he batted at his son's arm. "Okay, okay. Seven. But go to sleep."

Max nodded eagerly, headed off down the hallway. "Did you remember to brush your teeth?" Charlie called after him, almost as an afterthought.

He hadn't, but he figured that Charlie didn't need a response. Happily, Max sank into the air mattress and stared up at the gently whirring ceiling fan, already having accepted the fact that he wasn't going to sleep any time soon. Managing to lie still, he listened as Charlie's footsteps echoed down the hallway, then watched as the lights went out, one by one, until the house was calm and dark. Eventually, Max closed his eyes, imagining the bright arena lights and the cheering of the crowd and the music-he still hadn't chosen it yet-that would play as he and Atom took the stage.

Slowly, the images behind Max's eyes began to fade away, and Max's consciousness drifted away from him.

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><p>The next thing he knew, someone was softly shaking his shoulder. Blearily, Max opened his eyes, and Bailey swam into focus, smiling softly at him.<p>

"It's seven oh-five, Max. Charlie told me to wake you up."

Instantly alert, Max bolted upright, and Bailey took a step backwards in surprise, chuckling softly to herself. "Make sure you don't leave anything here, okay? Charlie's loading up the truck."

Max nodded, and a jolt of pure adrenaline hit his system as he realized that they were finally about to leave. Quietly, he grabbed his music player and headphones off the ground, tugged on a faded grey sweatshirt, and shook his head so his bangs settled back into place. In her crib, Corrine was sitting upright, staring wide-eyed at him. Max took a few steps towards her crib, grinning cheerfully at her. He'd spent most of the past few days with his little sibling, and though he decided that she couldn't really _do_much, he was nonetheless quite fond of her. "Bye, Corrine," he said brightly, stroking the top of her head. He then turned to look at Bailey, who was standing in the doorway. "Okay, I think I'm ready," he reported, squeezing past her and into the hallway.

He found Charlie outside, loading their luggage into the hilariously-conspicuous green truck. Hearing Max's footsteps, Charlie nodded briefly at him, and Max sprinted over, tossing his music player into the passenger-side window. "Ready?" he asked, bouncing up and down slightly. In the past few years, Max had certainly matured-he was just as precocious, but perhaps a little more respectful; but the one thing that still hadn't left him was his incredible lack of patience.

Charlie smiled at him. "Just a second, okay? Let me go say good-bye to Bailey." She emerged from the doorway, holding Corrine, and Charlie bent down to say good-bye to his daughter, then looked up to say something to Bailey, putting a hand on her waist. The two of them giggled over something Max couldn't hear, and Bailey pulled Charlie into a one-armed embrace.

Max sighed and hopped into the truck, trying to find a comfortable spot in the well-worn seat. Watching Charlie with his wife and new baby girl made him feel slightly uncomfortable-as if the three of them were a family and he wasn't part of it. He pushed the thought to the corner of his mind, curling up in the seat and closing his eyes. He'd woken up several times during the night due to his excitement, and he was still a little bit sleepy...

"Okay. Let's get this show on the road." Charlie swung deftly into the seat beside Max's, sliding his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. "San Francisco, here we come, right, Max?" The engine rumbled to life, and Max's heart swelled with excitement. He watched as Bailey and Corrine disappeared from view, then leaned his head against the window, settling in for the long ride.

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><p>Several hours later, Charlie insisted that the pair stop to get lunch, and they decided on a quiet, dingy sports pub with televisions mounted to the walls at the booths. Shortly after ordering, Charlie got a call from Bailey. Muttering apologies to Max, he disappeared outside, leaving Max to watch the sports network on TV while nonchalantly sipping at the lemonade he'd ordered.<p>

_"The new robot boxer International Orange was debuted at Union Square in San Francisco today."_Intrigued, Max leaned forwards, watching as an image of a huge, shiny red-orange robot was cast onto the screen. The robot's lithe, powerful shape was outlined by a foggy grey sky and swarmed by hundreds of onlookers; their camera-flashes made the robot appear to sparkle of its own account._"International Orange, named for the paint color of the city's famous Golden Gate Bridge, was funded by the city as a stunt to bring spectators to its newly-remodeled Bayside Arena."_

_The TV screen cut from the robot to a familiar scene with two commentators sitting at a table, dressed in suits, addressing the audience. "What's interesting, actually, Kent, is that this robot is programmed with state-of-the-art technology, all top-of-the-line machinery, they really held nothing back. When you look at him-he's not flashy, maybe you wouldn't suspect anything special-but his managers assure us that this bad boy's a killer," one of the men said to the other, staring directly into the camera._

Max was acutely aware that his father had slid back into the booth opposite him, and he gestured at the TV screen. "Charlie, look!" he ordered without looking away from the screen.

Charlie craned his head to look at the television screen, taking a long gulp of iced tea through his straw. "International Orange," he said, grimacing slightly. "Yeah actually, that's the robot we're"-

_"I guess we'll have to wait and see, Greg. And we'll see soon enough, because International Orange's first fight is on Monday night, 7pm: International Orange vs. the People's Champion at the Bayside palace, watch it here."  
><em>_"I'm really looking forward to seeing that, actually, glad you brought that up. We're going to see Atom for the first time since the 2020 Real Steel Championship, virtually disappeared after the split-decision loss to Zeus, how do you think he's going to hold up?"  
><em>_"Well, Greg, I just don't see how Atom could stand a chance. We're looking at a match-up of an early-2014 G2 sparring robot from the junkyard against a brand-new bot that cost millions of dollars, programmed by a team of the world's top robot designers. I mean, you've gotta love the 'People's Champion', but I just don't think we're going to see much of a fight on Monday..."_

"Ignore it," Charlie said quickly, wrinkling his nose. "They don't know anything. Hey-look, our food's here. I think there's a baseball game on-hey, Max, change the channel, would you?" His words were coming out far too fast, and Max looked quizzically at his father, eyes lingering on the commentators onscreen for a moment longer before he changed the channel. The waitress set down a basket of onion rings and a chicken sandwich in front of him, and he took a bite, eyes still trained on his Charlie.

Charlie's shoulders were unusually tense, as if something was bothering him. Max frowned, dabbing an onion ring through his cup of ranch dressing. "You don't believe the commentators, right?" he asked. Charlie merely shrugged, taking a huge bite of his hamburger.

Max tipped his head. "You didn't answer my question," he pressed. "You don't think we're going to _lose_, do you?"

Charlie swallowed hard, downing another gulp of iced tea. "Wait, lose? The fight, you mean," he answered vaguely, still avoiding Max's eyes.

"Charlie," Max said confidently. "Look at me. Charlie"-he looked at his father straight-on-"Trust me. Atom's not gonna lose."

"Ahh-that's the spirit, kid." Quickly, he added, "So, you got your dance routine for Monday night down, or...?"

Max nodded, and there was a short, brief pause. "Well-more or less. Wait, you're not _worried_, right?"

To him, the idea of Atom losing a fight was absurd. He'd heard what the commentators had said: of course Atom wasn't favored to win, but that had been the case with every fight they'd ever won. Besides, he trusted Atom-he had known since their first fight at the Zoo, really-that Atom seemed to have a will of his own. Still, Max also trusted Charlie, and his father's ambivalence about the fight worried him.

Charlie paused, as if he were about to say something, then shook his head. "Ahh-forget it, kid," he said finally. "What's more important is that we stay calm, we don't stress out over what everyone else says. It doesn't matter what anyone says, what matters is what _happens in the ring_..."

"Charlie, I know," Max said impatiently, his voice tinged with frustration. What was going on with his father, anyways? Didn't Charlie believe in Atom just as strongly as Max did?

There was a long stretch of silence, and Max reluctantly diverted his attention to the baseball game on television. He hated watching, talking about, or even the slightest mention of baseball-Marvin had insisted that he play on the local recreational team during the school year, suggesting that maybe being on the team would help him to "fit in at school", but if anything, it had only made matters worse. Max hated baseball, he hated his teammates, and the two of them together were nearly unbearable. Worse yet, his coach continually called him out on his reluctance, which made him wildly unpopular with his team. The wave of unpleasant memories was enough, temporarily, for Max to push his worries out of mind.

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><p>"Hey, look." Something nudged Max in the ribs, and he jerked upright, staring around. The truck was dimly lit by the amber streetlamps outside, which cast long beams of light that cut through a thick, dense fog. "San Francisco. We're here." The truck screeched to a stop, and Max yawned, rubbing his eyes.<p>

It was either very late Saturday night, or early on Sunday morning. In their typical fashion, Max and Charlie had taken very few stops on the road, and Charlie had insisted on getting to California before Sunday, so they could have a day to take in the sights. Groggily, Max glanced at the time readout: 1:54AM. He hadn't even stayed up this late on New Years'. Still half-asleep, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, which felt pleasantly cool.

"'Kay, Max, c'mon." Charlie swung open the truck door, and Max could hear his father land on the pavement below. "We can get your luggage in the morning, okay?" Max sighed, curling up against the seatbelt; he hadn't moved much in hours, and was still too tired to get up.

"You're too old for me to carry you," Charlie called, and Max groaned reluctantly, half-falling out of the truck and hobbling around the parking lot. The air was surprisingly cold and misty, and a blanket-like mist obscured everything further than a few feet away. Max staggered towards his father, who put his arm around his shoulder, guiding him towards the motel.

Checking into the motel was a blur, and in a matter of minutes, Max was collapsed on the comforter of a cheap motel bed. Nearby, Charlie was settling into the bed next to him. "Good night, Charlie," he said softly, wrapping his arms around a pillow. He'd spent the better part of two days sitting in one place, and he was exhausted. Without the gentle rumbling of the truck around him, the stillness and quiet suddenly felt funny.

"Good night, kiddo," Charlie murmured. Max smiled and pressed the top of his head against the headboard, stretching his cramped legs. He was asleep within minutes.

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><p><strong>AN:** Just a couple of quick scenes before their big fight ^^ Seriously, any kind of comments/criticism/feedback is much appreciated. I'm kind of in love with writing this story right now, so anything to make it better :]


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hello hello hello! Thank you so much for reading :]

This chapter has a switch in POV from Max to Charlie midway through. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but any feedback (particularly in regards to the last Charlie's POV-bit) would be _wonderful_. Seriously, any kind of feedback would be great! Be it via review or a private message.

Enjoy!

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><p>To Max, the worst part of San Francisco was the weather. It was the summer, and yet the sky was perpetually grey, and a sharp, cold wind buffeted him from where he was standing on the beach, staring off distantly into the ocean. Put simply, Charlie and Max were not tourist-types; they unanimously decided to leave the modern art museum after about ten minutes of wandering through room after room, and neither had much interest in the history of buildings or trees or monuments. Finally, after a day of attempted-sightseeing, Max suggested visiting the beach. Now, he was standing on a cliff that overlooked the steely-grey water, and Atom's fight-little more than eight hours away-felt incredibly distant. He and Charlie had given up on their tourist activities in the late afternoon the day before, and Max had spent most of the evening perfecting his dance routine in a quiet corner of the parking lot. Hypnotized by the patterns in the waves below, Max couldn't even find it in himself to feel anxious.<p>

"Hey, kid. C'mon, let's go." Charlie's voice suddenly sounded behind him, startling him out of his reverie.

Max turned to face his father, frowning slightly. "Five more minutes?" he suggested. As intense and impatient as he usually was, he found it oddly comforting to be still for awhile.

To his surprise, Charlie shook his head. "Nah-we've gotta go to the airport," he said, running his hand through his hair. "We're gonna be late, okay?"

"Late for what?"

"We're picking up Bailey."

"She's coming?" Somehow, Max couldn't keep a note of disappointment out of his voice. He liked Bailey, but she wasn't part of his plan for the summer. To recreate the magic of the summer he'd had two years ago: that was his goal. Down to the truck and the long hours on the road, and staying in cheap, gritty motels. Bailey was not part of his equation. "What about Corrine?"

"She's staying with Bailey's sister. Get in the truck, will ya?" Charlie sounded a little bit impatient, and Max narrowed his eyes resentfully. "We've got to be at the airport in fifteen."

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><p>For what felt like the hundredth time, Max checked the time on the cell phone Debra had given him for the summer, then sighed with impatience, jogging to catch up with Bailey. Five-forty-five: forty-five more minutes until check-in time at the arena, and more than an hour before the fight. After Bailey checked on Atom, she had suggested that Charlie oil up his internal gears; while he did so, Bailey surprised Max by asking him to walk with her along the beach. They found a relatively quiet stretch along the water not more than ten minutes from the arena, and were walking a few feet from the high-water mark in the sand.<p>

"Nervous, Max?" Bailey said, slowing her pace so Max could catch up to her. "That's a big fight you're going to have on your hands."

Max shrugged, remembering how strangely Charlie had acted when they watched the program on International Orange at the sports pub. "I don't think so," he said finally, trying to remember how well Atom had stood up to Twin Cities, to Metro, to Zeus. Unsure of whether or not he wanted the answer, he finally added, "Do you think Charlie's nervous?"

There was a pause. "You know, I don't know if Charlie gets nervous," Bailey said finally. "Overconfident, maybe. Definitely. But not nervous." Max's shoulders relaxed, and he watched as Bailey's head tilted upwards, smiling nostalgically. "You know, one time, Charlie was set up for this little undercard fight. Then one of guys in the main event got sick, and Charlie got promoted to the big fight. He was just a novice, too. Way out of his league. Even my dad told Charlie that he was in over his head...but Charlie wasn't fazed. Not a bit."

Max felt comforted. He had almost forgotten that Charlie himself was a fighter; Atom wasn't just a low-tech G2 robot-they had Charlie's boxing knowledge on their side. And that was irreplaceable. "Did he win?" he asked finally.

"What do you think?"

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><p><em>Charlie's POV<em>

He paced around the parking lot, glancing whenever he passed at the little silver-plated robot resting quietly in the open truck. And, for the first time in a long time, he felt a powerful sense of dread.

Back when he was a struggling promoter, Charlie Kenton was occasionally nervous before fights, but for different reasons-he was broke, he needed money, he was in debt, he was fighting his last robot and he couldn't possibly, no way in hell, afford another one. When he himself was a boxer, he was always more excited than anxious; he had always been a confident fighter, and was never fazed by even the most vicious blows.

This, though-this was different. He wasn't worried for himself; he had plenty of larger, more powerful bots back at home, and a highly-publicized tour circuit in the Fall that would more than pay the bills for the year. He was worried for Max, because in his heart of hearts, he knew what would happen in that ring. Atom was a sparring bot, designed almost ten years ago-and yet, he had withstood hits from big, seasoned League bots. He even held up against Zeus. But the commentators had been right-the sport had evolved. The bots were bigger now, and more powerful. The new wave of boxing robots made Zeus look even smaller and weaker than he had made Atom look two years ago.

He was sending his son's best friend to his death. Atom _was_ Max's best friend, that much he knew; he saw the way that his son looked at his robot. And he knew that after the first round-at least, he hoped it would be over so quickly-Max's beloved friend would be nothing but a heap of scrap metal. A heap of scrap metal that had saved his son's life that fateful night at Metal Valley, and in some odd way, it had saved him too, and saved Bailey and Tallet's Gym. And yet, in less than an hour, Atom would be gone.

He hated to admit it, but he loved Atom, too-Atom was almost a substitute for Max. The two talked regularly on the phone, but he still missed him. He hated how much older Max had looked when he had stepped out of Marvin's car; how he still wasn't truly a part of his son's life, and it was his own fault. And so, while Max was away, Charlie felt that the least he could do was take care of his best friend. Just as Atom had kept Max safe at Metal Valley, and been their protector of sorts that whole summer, it was Charlie's duty to protect Atom. Now he was doomed to fail.

"Charlie!" He turned his head just in time to see Max sprinting up with Bailey trailing behind, adjusting the straps of her dress. Max's eyes were positively glowing with excitement, and his face was full of a childish sort of impatience. He was growing up, but not too fast, Charlie decided-childish and precocious at the same time, but simply childish for now. "We have to be at the arena in fifteen minutes!" He cocked his head. "Are you okay? Why did you forget?"

Charlie sighed, staring into Max's wide, bright eyes. He had hoped that Max might understand their actual chances of victory after the television special on International Orange, but the look on his face told him everything: he really still thought that they were going to win. That they would pick up where they had left off, as the undefeated underdog champions. He knew Max had listened to the pre-match analysis, but he also knew that he hadn't really _heard_ any of it. And why would he? Metro, Zeus, Twin Cities-nobody thought they could take any of those bots, either.

This was different.

"Charlie!" Max said again, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing, kid. Just-nothing."

Max folded his arms across his chest, giving Charlie an all-knowing look. "Seriously, it doesn't look like"-

"Alright, enough, enough!" Charlie's tone startled even himself; he hadn't intended to sound so curt. "Go get Atom out of the truck. I'll see you in a moment." Max continued to analyze the expression on his face for awhile longer, but turned and sprinted towards the truck after a few moments, just as Bailey walked up, putting her hands on Charlie's shoulders and looking him in the eyes.

"Okay, Charlie. What's wrong?" Bailey's voice dropped to a whisper, and she glanced back to where Max was climbing into the truck.

He shook his head. "The kid-the robot-this damned fight. Bailey, you know what we're up against, we can't..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"So what, give up?" Bailey demanded, staring unblinkingly at Charlie. "Why are you so bothered by the odds, Charlie? This isn't like you."

"It's not the odds, Bail. It's Max. I mean, look at him"-he gestured to where Max was experimenting with Atom's voice controls by the truck-"It's not just another bot to this kid, it's..." Again, he couldn't bring himself to finish.

After a moment of thought, Bailey reached up, touching his chin. "Just try your best, Charlie." They locked eyes for a moment, faces touching lightly. "That's all you can do."

Charlie closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, and Bailey wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and resting her head on his chest. Charlie pressed his chin to the top of her head and wished that he could just stay where he was until the match was over.

"Charlie, come on!" Max's voice sounded over the loud booming of Atom's footsteps, and Charlie felt a hand tug at his shirtsleeve. "We're going to be late." Max's voice was calm and steady, and Charlie felt a twinge of guilt at what he knew would happen.

"Okay, okay," Charlie said, looking from Max to Bailey. "Come find us after the match, okay? We'll...I"-

"Good luck, Charlie. Go get 'em, Max," Bailey called, headed towards the spectators' entrance. "I'd better go find my seat." As she left, Charlie turned towards Max, desperately hoping that maybe he would chicken out, suddenly become violently nauseous, _something_ to stop the fight. Instead, Max looked at him solemnly, radiating an air of pure determination.

"You're sure you're ready for this," Charlie said finally, running his hand through his short, dark hair. It wasn't a question, really, he knew what Max would say.

Max nodded. "'Course. Come, we're gonna be late. Let's go."

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><p><strong>AN:** What do you guys think? Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** long time, no see! I'm not particularly good at writing action sequences, so this chapter took a little while to work out. Nevertheless, I'm actually quite pleased with how it turned out. Ready for Atom's comeback match?

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><p>Six-fifty: ten minutes to go. Max gulped, drumming his fingertips against the workbench on which Atom was seated. Charlie had left several minutes ago to check in for the fight, and suggested Max practice his dance routine. Max tried to go over the steps and the beat of the music in his head, but he couldn't concentrate.<p>

"Hey, champ." Max jumped as the door swung open, revealing Charlie. "I got you something to eat, but you better hurry. They want us to make our entrance in six minutes." He handed a white paper bag to Max, who stared blankly at it for a moment before reaching inside. Pre-match nerves were an odd feeling, almost as if he were unattached to his body. The food smelled good enough, but the idea of eating felt oddly foreign to him.

Slowly, Max pulled an oblong, foil-wrapped shape from the bag, and suddenly realized what he was holding. A burrito._Now it's just like old times_, he thought contentedly, smiling at Charlie. Charlie smiled back, adjusting the collar of his dark blue shirt. "Still your favorite, right?" he said, giving his tie a quick tug.

Being around Charlie soothed Max's nerves to the point that he realized he was, in fact, quite hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since the mega-sized cinnamon roll he had nagged Charlie into buying him at the airport. Hurriedly, he gulped down a few bites, absentmindedly watching Charlie fiddle with the headset he would use to command Atom. His father was a respected promoter now, not just some washed-up boxer, and was now expected to dress the part: crisp, presentable, and professional. Atom, too, was more polished and shiny. They'd come a long way since he had first met his father outside of Tallet's Gym, and Max felt an unexpected glow of pride.

A quiet, high-pitched beeping caught Max's attention, and Charlie pulled out his cell phone, silencing the alarm. "Show time," he said, powering up Atom, who jerked upright and stood behind him. The robot copied Charlie's movements as he ran his hand through his dark, close-cropped hair and adjusted his tie for the final time.

Feeling strangely disembodied, like a floating pair of eyes, Max drifted out of the ready-room and into a long passageway, dimly lit by yellow fluorescent bulbs. At the end of the passageway, he could see the far side of the packed arena, and hear the pounding bass of a rap song over the voices of the crowd. Charlie led Max to the mouth of the tunnel, and then put his hand on Max's shoulder, bending down so he was at eye-level.

"I have to go to the ring, now. They'll start your music for you; that's your queue for your entrance. You know what to do, right, Max?"

It was just like every other time, but Max had never performed for a crowd so large. Out of respect for the championship nature of the match against Zeus, they had forgone the flashy entrance, making this arena the largest he'd ever danced at. From where he stood: bright lights, row upon row of spectator, Max could see the whole of the arenas, the instant-replay screen hanging above the center of the ring. Numbed, swallowed as the lights began to dim, and the booming, dramatic voice of the announcer sounded, silencing the audience. Pumped full of adrenaline, Max's mind wouldn't allow him to focus on the sound of the announcer's voice.

_"...let's have a warm welcome for...ATOOMMM!" _Then the music started to play, amplified over the booming speakers so it echoed through the arena.

It was as if he went on autopilot, and he was outside of his body, taking in the whole thing. The cheering faces of the audience as he passed, the catchy beat of the song he'd picked, and Atom's shadow, cast on the ground in front of him as the robot mirrored his every move. By the time he reached Charlie at the edge of the arena, leading Atom up the steps to the ring, he was breathless and slightly dizzy. Still not entirely certain that his mind was in control of his body, Max followed Charlie into the ring, watching as his father switched Atom into fight mode.

"Nice job out there, kiddo." Charlie smiled, pulling him into a quick hug. Still exhilarated, Max wrapped his arms around Charlie, vaguely aware of a soft "awww" from parts of the crowd. The moment was over quickly, however, as the announcer's voice appeared once again.

_"And now, in his first-ever match, hailing from-right here, folks!-San Francisco, California-please welcome...International Orange!" _Max and Charlie ducked under the ropes of the ring just as the opponent bot began its' entry. As International Orange approached the arena, Max couldn't help but feel awed at the huge robot's presence. It was larger than Zeus, but with a lean build similar to Atom, and menacing red eyes lit behind a wire facemask similar to Atom's. In the style of a true showman, the bot clanked its metal fists together, than raised them over its' head, turning slowly and nodding smugly at the crowd before assuming a fighting stance.

"Whoa!" Max caught himself saying, glancing over at Charlie.

"This is it!" Charlie responded, with one hand over the speaker of his headset.

Seconds later, the clanging of a bell signaled the start of the match.

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><p>As the two robots circled each other slowly, Max realized he had was holding his fists close to his face, copying Atom's defensive position. Years of watching robot boxing on television, and a few spontaneous lessons from Charlie taught Max that caution was necessary for survival in the ring, but waiting for the first punch to be thrown was the worst. Nervously, Max glanced at International Orange's giant rust-red fists, at least twice as large as Atom's.<p>

He recoiled instinctively as one of the metal fists connected solidly with Atom's midsection, almost as if he were Atom's shadow. Gasping anxiously, he concentrated on Charlie's voice, closely watching Atom's every move as his father came to life.

"Back-step! Back-step! Alright-duck! That's it, right cross!" A loud, metallic clang followed as Atom's punch landed squarely on the larger robot's chestplate, leaving a small dent. "Three left punches! Advance! Right uppercut!" Max's shoulders began to relax as Atom began to move in on the bigger robot, who was slowly being forced into the far corner of the ring, hammered with the combinations of punches that Charlie was commanding. With the robots so close to each other, Atom was too small for International Orange to land any of its clumsy hammer-swings. Nearly beside himself, Max found himself shouting with the crowd, cheering on his father as he expertly cornered International Orange on the ropes. Atom weaved around the larger robot, slamming its shoulder with an uppercut that caused a few sparks to shoot from its' shoulder joint. International Orange swung wildly at its opponent, then suddenly made contact: orange fist against Atom's facemask.

Atom tilted backwards from the impact of the blow as Charlie attempted to get the fighter's feet back underneath it. "Back-step! Back-step! Ahh, come on..." Atom careened backwards, crashing onto the mat.

"Get up! _Get up!" _Max shouted, pressing against the edge of the ring. Atom's limbs twitched as it attempted to push itself up to no avail. Frustrated, Max watched as the referee climbed into the ring to start the countdown, which played on the instant-replay screen above the ring. _Ten...nine...eight._..

"Come o_n, _Atom!" Max screamed, clutching his fists together so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. _Seven...six..._Atom's legs gave a jerk, then bent as the robot pushed itself to its feet, instantly beginning to retreat towards the center of the ring as International Orange stalked forwards, jabbing at its opponent. One of its punches connected solidly with Atom's head area, and on the jumbo-screen, Max saw Atom's blue eyes dim and flicker alarmingly. He growled with frustration, realizing that Atom wouldn't be able to land a punch from this distance; International Orange's reach was too far.

The bell that ended the first round was a welcome noise, and Max shoved his way into the arena, dragging a chair for Atom to sit in. Shortly after, Charlie appeared by his side, dripping with sweat and wearing a pair of safety goggles. "How's he look?" Charlie shouted over the din of the crowd.

Max pursed his lips, shuffling to the side so he could see Atom head-on. The fighter's mesh facemask was dented where International Orange had struck it, and the lights in one of its eyes was dimmed and pulsating. Charlie put his hand on Max's shoulder, running his hand along Atom's elbow joint.

"Could be worse, could be worse," Charlie said grimly. "Not too much damage to the midsection." He turned to the referee, who was standing expectantly behind them, signaling that their time was up. "We're ready to go."

At the start of the second round, International Orange charged forwards towards Atom with a speed surprising for a robot of its size. Max watched in horror as the robot's punches aimed squarely at Atom's already-damaged face area, driving Atom into the corner of the ring. Beside him, Charlie shouted for Atom to move, but Atom was pinned in place, with its arms dangling helplessly at its sides.

Panic seized Max as Atom was pummeled by the larger robot. His eyes were completely dimmed now, and the facemask was badly mangled by the force of International Orange's blows. The orange bot took a step backwards as Atom slumped back into the ropes, then raised its first to deliver a hammer first to the top of Atom's head.

He couldn't watch. Max pressed his hands against his eyes, losing himself in the hysterical crowd. Then, the inevitable countdown.

_Ten...nine...eight...seven...six..._

Max forced his eyes open. Atom was face-up on the mat, fists twitching in a futile attempt to get up. Beside him, Charlie's teeth gritted, and his dark eyes glanced quickly towards Max. "Get up!" He shouted, though Max knew it was only for his sake that his father was still trying to get Atom to his feet...

_Five...four...three..._Diverting his attention from the action in the ring, Max scanned the spectator's seats for Bailey. She was in the front row, behind and a little to the side of Max and Charlie, wringing her hands together.

_Two...one. _The final bell sounded, and the crowd cheered as International Orange pumped its fists into the air, walking indifferently away from its defeated opponent. Max could only stare dully, a sickening feeling spreading from the bottom of his stomach.

_What just happened?_

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><p><strong>AN: **What did you think? Reviews or feedback would be great, especially in regards to the Atom v. International Orange scene :] Thank you to everyone who has given me feedback along the way-every comment I receive really helps me improve the story, and writing has just never been so much fun!


	7. Chapter 7

Max climbed into the back of the truck, shining the flashlight into the dark space. He shuddered as he landed heavily on the metal floor, making a clanging noise that he was certain everyone in the motel would hear. Holding his breath, he waited for Charlie to come and drag him back to the motel room, heart thumping wildly.

After a few moments, Max pushed himself up, breathing a sigh of relief, and moved the beam of light around. Blankly, he watched as the light swept past the shelf-bed where Charlie slept sometimes, the opened case of Dr. Pepper sodas, and the shelf that held Charlie's sleek, thin laptop computer. Chewing the inside of his lip, he forced himself to continue scanning the truck until he found what he was looking for.

There it was: slumped sadly against the corner of the truck, limbs sprawled out across the floor. Conscious of the noise his footsteps made on the metal surface, Max tiptoed across the space to take his first good look at Atom.

Moments after the fight was over, Max had sprinted out of the arena, only half-aware of what he was doing. He remembered pushing his way through crowds in the lobby, flopping onto a bench, and hugging his knees to his chest, unaware of what exactly to feel. Blankly, he'd watched the crowds come and go; a few of the passers-by seemed to recognize him, though nobody stopped to talk to him, to congratulate him on a fight well done, to give him a pat on the back or a high-five. Dully, Max realized that maybe this was what losing felt like.

He still wasn't sure of how long he'd sat there, feeling entirely invisible to the crowd and even the workers who tried to sell the last of their food and memorabilia before the spectators left. All he knew was that, eventually, Bailey appeared and led him to the truck; sometime after that, they arrived at the motel and everyone else went to sleep.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to help Charlie put Atom back in the truck, and he left his backpack in the truck, knowing that he'd have to see Atom to get his music player and handful of comic books. Now, standing in front of Atom, Max forced himself to take in the whole of the damage, to get it over with all at once.

"You doing okay?" Max jumped, startled, at the sound of his father's voice behind him. Max turnd quickly, embarassed to Charlie sillhouetted by the parking-lot lights, fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hooded sweatshirt.

Max stared back, feeling his throat constrict. He was thirteen now, and he could deal with disappointment. He didn't need to cry over a robot.

Charlie let out a long sigh, then hoisted himself into the trailer, crossing the small space until he was standing next to Max. "Alright," he said finally, putting his hand on Max's shoulder. "Look, I know. Don't take it too tough, okay?"

Max swallowed hard, still staring at Atom. The two were silent for a moment before Max spoke out abruptly, trying to get the words out as fast as possible. He didn't really want to know the answer, but he needed to know. "We didn't really have a chance, did we?" he rasped.

He didn't have to wait for Charlie's grimace and pat on the back to know the answer. He'd known all along, really, that they couldn't have won. Atom was a small miracle in itself, but the world was constrained by reality. No winning streak could go on forever.

"Bailey said the damage's not too bad. She can fix him up no problem; he'll move around just like he used to," Charlie said finally, folding his arms across his chest. What was more important was what he left unspoken: Atom would be the same, but the sport was forever changed. It had moved on and finally left their ancient G2 sparring bot behind.

Max closed his eyes, rubbing one hand against his temple. Charlie's words hadn't comforted him, not really: he knew that already. Sometimes Charlie forgot that he knew almost as much about robots as he did. Atom would be fine, but he already knew. What stung was that, just like that, their trip was over. They couldn't fight another match, not like that one. That was it, then. Even if Charlie had another bout scheduled for Atom, and he wasn't entirely sure he had, they were at the end of the road. Slowly, Max realized that he had expected to feel more disappointed, but exhaustion dulled the sharp edge of his realization. "What are we going to do, then?" he muttered, stroking his hand absentmindedly through his dirty blond hair.

Charlie pursed his lips together. "We'll figure something out," he said, stifling a yawn. "Tomorrow, okay? It's past your bedtime."

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><p>Max stared at the florescent yellow vest his father handed to him, squinting his eyes so he could properly focus on the shocking color. The thin material fluttered like a flag in the wind, and the mesh material allowed Max to see the pier, touched with fog-cooled sunlight, on the other side. "You sure about this?" he asked, suppressing a giggle.<p>

Charlie laughed, already donning the eye-bleeding garment. "Hell yeah," he said. "We're only tourists in San Francisco for another couple hours. Just give it a shot."

There was only one company that offered Segway tours of the piers, and of course, that same company required their guests to wear hideous yellow vests to improve their visibility. Max could see the passers-by giving the small tour group jeering looks, and occasionally he could hear snippets of a snarky comment. And they weren't even on the Segways yet.

He knew it was designed to cheer him up; Charlie would have never agreed to anything of the sort on his own. In fact, it had been Bailey who convinced both of them to come, insisting that they spend time with her before she left on her flight back to Texas that night. At first, Max was skeptical. He was surrounded by total strangers, and felt self-conscious. Besides, he couldn't draw a connection between making a fool of himself and feeling better about seeing his best friend get crushed half to death in the ring the night before. But now, as he saw Charlie donning the awkwardly too-small neon vest, he suddenly felt a little bit lighter. It was unexpected, it was silly, and it wasn't part of his master plan. But then, he remembered, there was no master plan anymore. And so, why not?

"Fine," he said, trying to force a note of exasperation into his voice. "Well, if you insist."

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><p><strong>AN**: Hey everyone! This chapter is obviously a bit different than the last one, and it was pretty fun to write :] There's so much fun to be had in writing Charlie/Max scenes.

I'm also sorry for not responding to reviews. I feel like a jerk! But seriously, I appreciate literally everything you guys have to say about my fic. And anyone who reads my fic...good or bad, I'd love to hear what you think. Please review? :)


	8. Chapter 8

The makeshift shelf-bed was just as uncomfortable as Max had remembered it. The thin layer of blankets forming his mattress was barely more comfortable than the cold metal of the shelf, and the warm air was stifling; the whirring of the portable fan seemed to only add noise, and not help to circulate the air. Max shifted sleepily, realizing with frustration that he was awake again. Sighing, he opened his eyes.

The door was open, revealing a dazzling night sky framed by the tall, leafy trees of the rest stop at which they were staying. Max glanced over to the place where Charlie would be sleeping. The blankets lay crumpled against the thin mattress, and Charlie was missing.

Curiously, Max slid out of bed, landing as softly as possible and creeping towards the entrance to the truck. A few feet away, lying in a patch of grass next to a picnic table, was Charlie, hands folded behind his head, legs crossed.

"Charlie?" Max yawned softly, hopping out of the truck and onto the parking-lot asphalt. Vaguely, he realized that he was barefoot, and carefully crossed the parking lot, alert for any stray shards of glass or loose stones.

Charlie didn't say anything, but shifted over as Max lay down next to him, copying his father's position and staring up at the stars. Here, the stars gleamed like sequins in the inky-dark sky, unrivaled by city lights. The air was warm, but the grass was pleasantly cool and soft. Max nestled into the grass, elbows lightly touching his fathers'. "I can't sleep," he said finally.

"Can't blame you. Couldn't sleep tonight, either." Max tilted his head slightly to look at Charlie, who was grinning slightly, still staring upwards. "Too much Dr. Pepper?"

Guiltily, Max recalled the huge amount of soda he'd drunk at dinner that night. "Free refills" was almost like a challenge to him, and he'd worked up an appetite from sitting in the hot truck all day. "Maybe," he chuckled, rolling onto his side and pulling at the grass.

There was a moment of silence, and Max almost thought Charlie had fallen asleep. When he finally spoke, Charlie's voice was a deep, soft rumble. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to do this summer?"

Max considered, digging his toes into the grass. Since the fight, he and Charlie had managed to enjoy themselves without mentioning robot boxing. That didn't mean, however, that the topic wasn't weighing heavily on his mind. Although he fully enjoyed Charlie's little attempts to cheer him up-taking him to the movies after dinner that night, stopping for milkshakes after a few long and monotonous hours of driving, stopping at a quiet rest stop to play a game of catch with a football-Max itched for the thrill of robot boxing. And yet, whenever he thought about it, he was forced to remember that fighting with Atom wasn't a possibility anymore, and he'd feel a twinge of disappointment rise up from his stomach. "I want Atom back," he said finally, stifling a yawn. There: he'd said it, he'd admitted it. Oddly relieved, Max felt the rest-stop scene spin dizzily before him.

"I told you," Charlie said patiently, "Bailey said she can make him good as"-

"You know what I mean," Max interrupted, shaking his head. "It's not the same."

Charlie's sigh seemed heavy enough to be heard from the freeway. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "Look-I'm sorry for what happened."

A few years ago, Max would have accepted his father's apology. But he was older now, and he had understood fully what had really gone on. "It's not your fault," he said simply, chewing on the inside of his lip.

"I just wanted to give you a good summer." Charlie's voice sounded anguished. "I don't get to see you enough." A lump rose in Max's throat as he listened, ripping a handful of grass and scattering the blades into the wind. "I wanted to make sure it was special."

Max gulped, not trusting himself to speak. Charlie's disappointment somehow covered for his own; he felt more clear-headed than he had since before the Bayside Arena spectacle. "Thank you," he murmured. Something about late-night talks made everything more raw and emotional, made it easier to say things they needed to say. Staring at a lone wisp of silver cloud drifting across the sky, Max rubbed at his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

"I love you, Charlie," he said suddenly after a moment of quiet. He felt slightly ashamed; for all of their phone conversations and back-and-forth emails, it was a sentiment neither felt comfortable putting into words. They'd set a precedent after the Zeus match: he loved Charlie, and Charlie loved him, but it went unspoken. Maybe it was too difficult for either of them to say.

"I love you too, Max," Charlie said thickly. Unsure of what to do, Max nodded slowly, then realized that his father probably couldn't see him. "You...okay?" Charlie asked softly.

Max took a deep, shaky breath, feeling suddenly lighter. "Yeah," he said, scooting over to rest his head on Charlie's arm.

He could practically hear the relief in Charlie's voice. "Don't worry, Max," he said. "We'll come up with something."

Max nodded, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep.

The next thing he knew, Charlie was holding him, gently placing him back into the shelf of the truck. "You're getting too heavy for me to do that," Charlie murmured, half to himself.

Max smiled and pulled the blanket around his ears.

* * *

><p>Late morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Bailey as she sat at a work bench, deep into her work. She bit her lower lip, hyper-focused on welding two tiny wires together. The sudden ringing of the phone startled her, and she dropped the welding torch, sighing with frustration and suprise. Exasperated, she picked up the receiver, balancing it between her shoulder and her ear while she retrieved her tool from the floor.<p>

"Tallet's Gym, this is Bailey Tallet. How may I help you?"

"Ms. Kenton." The caller's voice was strangely silky, tinged with a distinct and exotic accent.

Bailey sighed, freeing her hands to hold the phone receiver in a more comfortable manner. _Tallet-Kenton,_ she corrected in her head, though she figured it unnecessary to tell the caller.

"I would like to speak to your husband, Charles Kenton." The voice was oddly slow and deliberate. Bailey frowned, certain she'd heard the voice from somewhere. The voice of an eccentric grade-school teacher, maybe, or a friend's mother.

"He's not here now," Bailey said. "Can I take a message? He'll be back tonight."

There was a short pause. "Tell Mr. Kenton that this is Farra Lemkova," the voice said at last.

Farra Lemkova. So that was why the voice sounded so familiar. It made sense, too, Bailey realized: nobody had heard from Farra Lemkova for awhile now. The Zeus-Atom match was a PR nightmare for the heiress and her bot; between her adamant and increasingly shrill insistence that they had won the match, and Tak's cold and aloof indifference, Zeus nearly overnight plummeted from glory. After nearly a month of bad press for the team, Farra announced at a press conference that the Lemkova Corporation was to retire their robot boxers to focus on other ventures. And just like that, the world's greatest bot-boxing team had disappeared. Several days later, another bot designer, some MIT graduate living in upstate New York, unveiled his new champion robot: essentially, the new Zeus. The fast-growing, ever-changing sport was all too quick to forget about Zeus and the masterminds behind it.

"We are interested in making a comeback into the boxing world." Bailey could practically hear Farra's glossy lips twist into a smug smile. "And we believe there would be no better comeback than to beat, once and for all, the _great_ Charles Kenton and his son." Her voice was slick and practically dripping with condescension.

"I-I'm sure you've heard"-Bailey stammered, uncertain of what how to respond-"Charlie isn't fighting Atom anymore. I don't think-don't know"-

"I know." Farra's voice cut Bailey off mid-stutter. "I am not interested in that junkyard dog. I am interested in a rematch with Charles Kenton.

Tak Mashido and I have been working on a new project," Farra continued. "We are very confident that we can defeat any opponent in our way. And that includes any robot of Mr. Kenton's."

Bailey shook her head. "You want to fight a round against Charlie, your new bot against one of his?"

"Correct."

"And...assuming he agrees...which one?" Bailey asked finally, turning to look at Charlie's new bots lined up against the wall. All of them were bots given to him by sponsors; although he fought every round with ferocity and passion, Bailey knew that the sponsor's agendas in creating the styles of the robots had cramped Charlie's style. For example, Thunder Punch, the robot Charlie was to take on a tour circuit in the fall, was large and clumsy, with huge but heavy lemon-yellow fists, quite the opposite of Charlie's agile boxing style. Nothing that seemed worthy of facing the newest Tak Mashido masterpiece. Briefly, her eyes drifted down to the bot lying on the workbench. _Maybe..._

"Any robot," Farra clarified. "But I suggest he be prepared."

"I-I'll tell him," Bailey said, still a little bewildered at the sudden turn of events.

"Excellent. I trust that he will return our interest in this battle of wits. Goodbye, Ms. Kenton."

_Click_. Bailey stared at the phone in her hand, then began to punch in the number to Charlie's cell phone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I wrote a couple of beginnings to this chapter, but decided on this one. It was inspired by those strange heart-to-heart talks that tend to happen in the small hours of the night, which I guess explains why it's a bit cheesier than I expected. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, generally. I tend to shy away from being over-the-top cheesy, but it kind of clicked together this time, I guess. Maybe because it was so late when I wrote this.

In the second scene, we get into the heart of the action for this fic. Sorry it took so long, and kudos to you if you're still reading. Thanks for sticking with me on this, seriously :) As always, reviews are much appreciated. I'll try to reply to reviews this time, sorry for being so unresponsive xD


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